Droves
by a blue fruit cup
Summary: He is a Captain. He knows of loss, but the bodies come in droves. They do not fail to horrify him. AU


**AN: It's been awhile since I posted something! I've been busy with stuff but I'm still trying to get stories done. :P Anyways. _Trigger warning for implications of assault, mentions of gore, and overall not nice things. _Note: this takes place in an AU. For more information regarding it please read the story 'Seppuku' listed on my profile. This story might be a bit confusing otherwise. Hope you guys enjoy!**

The bodies come in droves.

He can tell which ones died slowly, and who were slaughtered mercilessly. Demons are eager to torment the helpless and it's no surprise some of them show signs of torture: nails torn off, unnatural shapes of flesh stripped from the limbs of a reaper, and to his horror and _disgust _there are those whose clothes have been torn and ripped near the waist. Toshiro Hitsugaya bows his head and prays quietly over the latter, hoping that somewhere, somehow, the reapers are at peace.

He knows it's a foolish thought. There is no peace in this afterlife.

"Captain!" the sound of his second spurs Toshiro to turn.

His white hair sways. His turquoise eyes pick up the sight of his busty, ginger Lieutenant right away. Without thinking twice Toshiro has reached for his sword. "Another attack?"

"No, no- Captain-!" Rangiku Matsumoto is playful, but not now. It's a painful reminder of the way things are. For once in his afterlife Toshiro wishes she would make a joke and help put him at ease. Instead, he listen carefully as she goes on to list the names of the deceased and relay other information.

Forty-six of them. _Forty-six_ _fallen reapers._ The demons have preyed on another squad tonight and not all of the corpses have been recovered. Holes within the fabric of space and time – possible 'Gates to Hell,' as many have come to call them – have been located. There is no time to bury or burn the bodies. They have to go. They have to leave. More demons may be coming and current forces are not strong enough to hold off further attacks.

Toshiro nods. He knows this. He is a Captain, the leader of a division and furthermore of numerous squads full of reapers. He has overseen death many years now, and he knows that information such as this – horrible as it is – is nothing new.

What isn't new, though, is the way Matsumoto Rangiku stops at the end. It's at that moment Toshiro realizes her sword is sheathed, her hands are tight, and the woman is staring at him with a strange intensity. _Worry?_

His mind reels back as he catches her last word, nothing more than a name with few syllables and little meaning to anyone but precious few.

"…Hinamori."

Hinamori. Hinamori. _Hinamori. _

The squad wasn't one of the Fifth's, was it? _No, **no**,_ Toshiro reminds himself and forces himself to calm. It was the Thirds's, not the Fifth's. Not one of Momo Hinamori's squads. Her squad came to _assist _his, it wasn't the one fighting. '_She's fine. Calm yourself.'_

_'No, she's not.'_ Chills crawl up his spine. _'Matsumoto wouldn't have said her name if she was fine.'_

Toshiro finds himself turning and breaking into a sprint – something far out of character and unlike him. He doesn't wait for his Second-in-Command to finish, or pause to let her catch up. His energy leaves the ground caked in frost and the sky full of snowy clouds. It isn't until the Captain has scavenged the area, interrogated every reaper in his way, and frozen over two patches of ground in his hurry that he finds her crumpled near a body.

The Captain exhales sharply at the sight of her form next to a particularly bloodied corpse. It's unnatural to see her in such a state. Her precise black hair – once so carefully pulled back, tied in a blue and pale seafoam cloth – has fallen free. It splays over her shoulders, hiding portions of her pale face in a disarray of tangles and knots. Her form, despite the emblem strapped to her shoulder, despite the pleated robes, and despite the badges sewn into her clothes to display her rank, holds none of the fierce, fiery leadership the girl is known to have.

She's not dead.

_'Far from it,'_ he knows, but Toshiro does not fail to acknowledge she is one of the Fifth Division's leaders. He reminds himself regardless of whether she fights or arrives to assist there is no denying grief.

For now, he does nothing but walk to her side and linger. "…Hinamori."

No response.

She's silent, and her eyes remain fixated on the body before them. Her hands are clenched in a way that leaves her skin unnaturally white. Toshiro can hear her erratic, short-then-fast-then-short breathing. He can see the way her mouth trembles and the way her eyes glaze over in disbelief.

His heart aches.

Turquoise eyes skim the corpse before them. Toshiro pauses when his gaze falls flat on the corpse's face. There's something peculiar about the way it's face is smashed in. The other bodies – once more a short prayer surfaces in his thoughts and he silently wishes them peace – despite being mutilated and torn and barraged in ways unimaginable, did not suffer the same form of torture. This body is strange. It is less physical, and more precise in where the strikes unmistakably are aimed toward the face and certain limbs. Skin has flayed off from where one can presume the jaws were slammed into something. Perhaps the ground? Toshiro's brow crinkles.

_'There's more to it,'_ he thinks. He goes on – never moving, still as stone, but the gears in his head turn and begin to piece of the puzzle before him.

The body's wrists have been broken. Bruises line the area and pieces of bone jut out, tearing through the flesh. Blood trickles off a wound from the forehead. Signs of strangulation are evident in marks near the neck. There is no sign of the corpse's weapon. Toshiro forces back the bile in his throat when he realizes the uniform on the reaper is not only torn, but it has been shredded in places that leave him wanting to heave at the implications. He cannot stop the sharp exhale of breath when he catches sight of a marred, broken emblem that is cradled in Hinamori's hands.

Third Division.

Lieutenant.

_'Kira Izuru.'_

Memories of a blond with sunken eyes and strange stature fill his head. They feature different settings, and places, and things, but Toshiro remembers each one well. He can recall a time when the third Captain and himself fought – with two Lieutenants, of orange and of blond, standing in the background. He recounts a time when Hinamori busied herself with making flower crowns in the spring, something he had foolishly grown jealous over when she presented one to Kira. He thinks back to a recent meeting, just this morning, when orders were being given out and Toshiro himself met and discussed strategies with not only the Captain of the Third, but with Kira as well. Thoughts and feelings and a horrified sense of shock greet him as Toshiro stares at the corpse.

Suddenly, Toshiro realizes, he can understand Hinamori's grief.

He stops. The Captain kneels next to Kira and begins to pray over his corpse.

There is no telling how long he stays like that. Toshiro does not speak out loud. His prayers spoken under breath, private and personal and genuine.

He prays over Kira's spirit. The afterlife is a cruel place and there is no peace, but Toshiro continues to pray. He prays to the gods and to death itself that Kira will be an exception. He prays that Kira will be allowed to rest. It is one of the few things he can do for the dead man.

When he stops, the corpse is still dead, the blood still smells of thick, rich copper, and Hinamori has not made a sound.

Toshiro moves to shut the remains of Kira's eyes. He doesn't flinch or look away when the glossy, glazed irises stare at him in emptiness. His hand gently shuts them without hesitation before he draws back and moves to stand.

"…Hinamori." The Captain says quietly. He shifts the sword strapped to his back. Grief, shock, mourning – all of it is a terrible thing, and it is handled in different ways, but Toshiro knows they cannot stay there forever. He look at Hinamori and waits.

She looks back at him.

He hates to see her cry.

"We need to go, Momo." Toshiro's voice softens. There is little he can do for her.

The Fifth's Lieutenant stands. She doesn't want to, Toshiro can see that much, but she does. Hinamori picks up her sword and fumbles with it. Her eyes flicker down and the Captain can tell she is trying not to look at the corpse.

"Yes T- Tos- Captain." her voice is soft and pained.

Toshiro does not embrace her. He does not wrap his arms around her or place a hand over hers. He does not wipe the tears from her cheek and whispers soft words of support and love. Such feelings, thoughts, and actions are reserved for a time that is not now, and for a life that is not theirs. Toshiro kills another piece of him and buries that portion of his heart far beneath the horrors of the world. He turns away and pretends Hinamori is _just_ another Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Matsumoto has already been given orders to round up remaining members of the Tenth here. She's relayed information to me concerning possible Gates." We have to leave the bodies, Toshiro never says, but the message is clear.

Hinamori looks down. She doesn't bother to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her fists clench and she nods. "I- I'll gather the Fifth's forces. We can leave immediately."

She's gone, never once questioning his prayers, or the gesture of respect toward Kira's eyes and corpse, or the fact Toshiro used her first name.

_'How awful,'_ Toshiro muses, '_is the way we grieve.'_ He acknowledges bitterly the ways it is hidden, masked under a fine line of 'strength' among those who are forced to lead others in a futile attempt to live. To him, Hinamori is like that. She is strong, but not strong at all. To anyone else, perhaps they would see her fire and burning spirit as strength, or perhaps her hate worthy of admiration. To him, Toshiro sees nothing but the pain Hinamori forces back. He spies the cracks in her face and form and self, and the fury and grief and sorrow behind them. The Captain sees himself, and many others, the same – all of them ripping off another part of them and stamping it out under foot until they are numb and "strong" and "brave" for the sake of others.

It's then Toshiro realizes he is still standing over Kira's corpse, thinking of Hinamori, and he notices something.

He's crying.


End file.
